Talk to Me
by iamsecretlyinlove
Summary: Based off of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. Kurt was raped at an end-of-summer party. He fell into a depression and stopped talking. He lost his friends and his voice. Will his biology lab partner help him get out of his depression? Straight!Santana Bisexual!Sebastian Nerd!Blaine Depressed!Kurt Warnings for suicidal thoughts, self harming, and talks of rape!
1. Chapter 1

The bus pulls up to my stop. I'm not ready. I step on the bus and take a look at my surroundings. Where do I sit?

The front could draw attention. The people who despise me sit in the middle and all the seniors took the back.

My name is Kurt Hummel. I am a freshman starting my first year of high school at William McKinley High School with no friends and no explanation to what I have done. How was I supposed to explain myself that August? Who was going to listen? Everybody hates me!

I take an empty seat close to the center but still up near the driver. This is where I belong. Alone.

We continue our drive. More familiar faces appear and one unrecognizable one. She was a short brunette. Obviously new. Maybe if I talked to her and pretend to be her friend I wouldn't seem so outcast. Yes, I am the outcast.

The girl takes a seat across from my ex-best friend, Santana Lopez. They say nothing to each other. That's good. I still have a chance with her. Nobody could possibly screw this up for me.

Once we get to school all the freshmen are ushered to the auditorium.

I slowly make my way down the aisle, once again at a loss for a place to sit. I find a seat in an empty row of chairs. Somebody purposely knees my chair. I turn around to see Santana sitting behind me. She purses her lips at me and gives me a bitch glare. I face back forward as I try to ignore the snickering coming from her and a couple girls she was sitting with.

I see the new girl sitting a few rows ahead of me. I stand and make my way up to her. Better sooner to make friends with her than later.

"Hey." I murmur as I hover over her seat.

She looks up at me; her bright, brown eyes were gleaming under her bangs.

"Hello! My name is Rachel Barbara Berry!" She replies enthusiastically as she extends a hand out for me to shake. I look down at it then take the empty seat next to her. I don't even shake it.

Rachel reluctantly puts her hand back down, "So... what's your name?"

I knew she was feeling awkward, I would too, "Kurt" I mumble just loud enough for her to hear.

"I like that name." Rachel nods. There was a long silence between us, "My family moved here over the summer. My dad got a job down here. It's nothing new, I guess. We have always lived in New York but I guess Ohio is cool too. We do move a lot so I was kind of expecting that. I'm planning on moving back to New York after I graduate. It's where I belong."

I listen to Rachel talk about her life story not too intently. I was mostly zoned out for the conversation as I picked my nails, only to come back at, "You don't talk to much." I hadn't notice she was still talking. I hadn't noticed that I wasn't talking.

I don't talk. That's probably why.

The principal walks in finally shutting up Rachel. I could praise him.

"This year's going to be great year!" He enthuses. I could laugh at that, "Lots of fresh new faces starting here today!"

_"Some fresher than others."_ I think as my eyes dart to Rachel sitting on my left. She seems happy to be here. Heck, she'll probably be happy if she was in a sewer. Like there was a difference. It might even be cleaner than this school.

* * *

Heading to my first period class was just as struggling. I got lost. Why don't they make a map of the school for people's first days?

The bell rang. I began sprinting only to be stopped by a teacher.

It was Mister Neck. I was trying to not meet my teachers before I had them. But one caught up with me. He was the tall, muscular type. The teacher who also serves as our school's male basketball team coach.

"Hey!" He calls after me.

I begun running faster, praying to the nonexistent God that he wouldn't catch me. Boy was my luck out.

"You're name?" He asked as he pulled out green slips from his pocket and clicked the pen he was holding.

Me:

"I asked for you're name! Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to write you up on the first day?"

Me:

Should I answer?

"Uh... I-" I looked down at my feet. I stopped caring about fashion and it showed through the cheap sneakers I bought from Wal-Mart at last minute, "K-K-Kurt." I whispered.

"Kurt what!?"

"Hummel. K-Kurt Hum-Hummel."

Mister Neck wrote on one of the green slips and hands it over to me, "Since it's your first day here I will let you off with a warning. But know this: I've got my eye on you, Hummel." He growled then walked off in the opposite direction.

* * *

My first class of the day: Biology.

Just another boring Science class.

I walk in. There are no free seats left except for the one by Blaine Anderson.

Blaine Anderson was nothing more than the class nerd. He knows everything about everything, I swear on it! He has the highest GPA and IQ in the whole class, if not, the whole school!

He was also extremely shy. Maybe I should be as mute as him. I've never heard him talk before. That is, until our biology teacher paired us up as lab partners for the year.

I'd rather be paired with one of my friends. What friends? I have none. It's great, though, having a very smart boy to do all the work for you. Let's face it, I couldn't.

Blaine seems less enthused than me by the pair-up. I'm not offended. I would be upset if I was a smart boy being paired up with a not-so-smart one too. I don't even want to pair up with myself.

* * *

Next was Language. Why do we even bother with this class? I'm pretty fluent in English as is. I'm being taught the same things over and over again since the first grade. Again, why do we bother?

The teacher has no face. If her face isn't towards the board it's studying her boring desk. She seems frightened to talk. Or she's scared of kids. Or both. My question is: Why would she be a pointless language teacher if she can't even interact with us? I think I'll call her Hairwoman.

* * *

The one class seemingly interesting to me is Spanish. I like the teacher, Mister Schuester.

"Spanish is more than a language." He says to our class, "It's a culture. Which is why..." He pulls out a globe that was cut in half, "I have decided to write a bunch of cultural stuff in this here globe and I want you all to study it in relation to a Spanish native country to present as your end-of-the-year-finals."

He begun walking around the room and having each kid pick out of the globe their assignment. He gets to me I reach in and pull out a slip of paper. I unfold it and read the inscription.

_"Religion"_

I fold it back up and put my hand back in the globe. He pulls it away before I could get a new one.

"You chose your destiny already, no going back." He says.

"Mister Schue, I don't think I could do this." I say. I was a nonbeliever after all.

"You have no say." He tells me then walks off.

He was right. I have no say. If I did that horrible thing would have never happen.

I heard the girl behind me wail. I turn around. It was one of my ex-friends, Mercedes.

"But I hate commerce!" She exclaims, "I don't even know what that is!"

"Then you will learn." Mister Schuester says.

Looks like I'm not the only unlucky one.

"You will begin your research now!" Mister Schuester says to the class after everyone's picked from the globe.

The bell rings. It's finally time for lunch.

* * *

Lunch was no better than the morning. There was no place for me to sit. Everyone sat amongst their cliques. I had nobody. I walk around the lunchroom trying to find an empty seat. A guy sticks out his foot and trips me. My tray meets my torso, there's now potatoes on my shirt.

Everyone begins to laugh. I turn red with embarrassment at the display as I stumble out of the lunchroom.

I don't look back. I ran through the halls and bumped into a door in an empty hall.

I jiggle the doorknob. It's unlocked. I walk inside the dark, little room. I search for a light switch on the wall. When I turn it on I find myself in a probably a long abandoned janitors closest filled with an old sink with rusting knobs and a matching mirror above it. there's a shelf nearby that. It was mostly empty except for old bottles of unused cleaning products and moldy sponges.

"This is where I belong." I decided to myself.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Hey! Hope you enjoy this chapter! There's some Spanish in here. If anything's wrong, pardon it. Spanish is not my Native Language I just wrote it using Google Translate and from what I know. I'm rusty._

* * *

The closet has become my second home. For the past few weeks I have spent my time working on the old room to make it a little better. I grabbed some of my favorite books to read and a pillow and blanket from home. Miss Marvin (the librarian) gave me a poster of Maya Angelou for the school wouldn't allow the library to carry any of her books. I taped the poster on the old mirror. Everything was coming together.

* * *

I began hanging with Rachel more frequently and even go to her house from time to time

"I like the color shocking pink. Do you?" We are sitting in her room as she says that. She was doing her nails in that exact color as she sat at her desk. I was sitting criss-cross on her bed hugging a fluffy pillow.

Rachel's room was better than mine but definitely not my type.

Her walls were an eggshell white color. Her bed was fluffy and colorful. It was decorated with her tastes

My walls were a bland white. I stopped caring what my room looked like after it happened. Pictures were tore down. decorations were put away. It's all sitting in the back of my closet.

"I don't like much pink." I admitted. I don't like many colors after that night. I stopped caring. It's just a color.

"That's too bad..." She said. What was too bad?

"Uh... yeah." I agreed.

"So, I was thinking about joining this group of people. They're really cool! They call themselves the New Directions! They like, help people and do community service and stuff. All I have to do is dress like them and do whatever they tell me to and I'll be in." She seemed so happy about it. I wouldn't. The New Directions were just a group of stuck-up, selfish people who just use these acts for publicity and to look good so they can get into colleges and stuff. They dress up in matching clothes and for random holidays. They're horrible but I didn't want to tell Rachel. That wouldn't be right.

"That's um... cool." I say. What else is there to say?

"Maybe someday I'll come to your house. We could probably pick out your daily outfits to match the New Directions." I plaster a fake smile at her idea. It was rather a stupid idea. I would never join that group in a million years but I was supportive of her.

* * *

Most of the time I was hiding out in my closet for lunch but today I decided to eat in Spanish class. Mister (or Señor) Shuester has really grown on me. He was the only adult I could trust.

I walk into his class. He smiles when he sees me.

"Any place you would like. But you have to be doing research."

Me:

"There are textbooks and a computer in the back if you need them."

I grab a book and take a seat in the far back of the class.

A few minutes in someone else enters the room. It's Blaine Anderson.

"Hola, Señor Schuester. ¿Cómo estas?" He asked.

"Hola, Señor Anderson. Soy muy bueno." Mister Shuester replied.

What the hell were they saying?

"Eso es bueno."

"Sí, sí."

"Uh... ¿Puedo trabajo mientras como?"

"Sí. tomar el asiento."

Blaine notices me and takes the desk next to mine.

"Hi!" He greets me as he opens up his lunch bag.

Me:

He let's out an awkward chuckle, "So... what are you researching?"

Me:

Blaine leans in to look at what I'm reading.

"Religion." He nods, "I got clothing."

Me:

I could feel his awkwardness.

"Look, as lab partners we should probably be on our good sides and get to know one another."

Me:

"You're really engrossed in your reading, aren't you?" He asks. Jokes on him, I don't even know what _"engrossed"_ means. I'm just ignoring humans as much as possible.

"I came here to study because the cafeteria's too loud. Are you doing the same?"

Me:

Why hasn't he gotten the hint that I rather not speak?

"Whenever you want to talk I'm right here. Lab partners honer." He even raised his hand in emphasize.

Me:

He sighs and begins his studying.

I kind of felt bad. He _was_ only trying to be nice. I just don't know how to respond.

"I uh... I don't have many friends." I finally say, "I came here because I know it's a nice quiet place to eat and get started on my work."

He looks at me in bewilderment. Did I say something wrong?

"Um... yeah! That sounds like a reason to come here." He agrees, "Do you like Spanish?"

I shrug, "It's cool, I guess. The teacher seems nice. He's the only one I got on the right foot with."

"The one and only?" He asks, his eyes grow big in astonishment, "But yes, Señor Schuester is really nice."

I wonder at this moment if Mister Schuester was listening in on us. He probably was, although, he seemed - as Blaine would say - _"engrossed"_ in the book he was _"reading." _

Wow! I should probably look up that word. It sounds so smart... Doesn't it? Maybe working with Blaine wouldn't be _that_ bad after all?


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Hey! Hope things are amazing for you! Here's an update!_

_WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER INCLUDE: SELF HARMING! PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER IF IT MAY SEEM TRIGGERING TO YOU!_

* * *

It is study hall. Why bother with the class? I get my pass signed and I am off to my closet.

I pass by the library as I walk down to the closet. It occurrs to me that I haven't done much in there but stare at that poster of Maya Angelou and contemplate everything that happened that night.

_What would've happened if I hadn't called the cops? If I could speak? If I wasn't drinking? If I didn't go?_

Obviously I wouldn't be like this. I would still be friends with Santana. I would still be my outgoing self. I wouldn't be depressed. I'm depressed. I know it. I'm showing so many of the common symptoms. The other day I found myself standing in an ankle deep bath with a razor in my right hand as I cut my left wrist. It felt good as the blood trickled down my stained wrists as I equally cried. It was painful but it was the best thing I've felt since that horrid night.

But anyways, I find myself gravitating into the library. I need something to do to pass the time. Maybe a good book could help? I check out a few books and I now I'm back on track.

I lay on the floor that was now occupied with old pillows and blankets we had in our house and I open the first book on my stack. It looks like a decent one. I've seen a few people reading it so I guess it's kind of popular.

I begin reading it. It isn't that bad. I find myself so into it that I forget the time. It isn't until the bell rang that I decide to stop reading. I was gone too long. I'm going to be hearing about this sometime after lunch. Oh, what fun.

* * *

Back at home I find myself doing a recurrence of the other day. I fill the bathtub to my ankles, grab a fresh razor blade and begin to slit my scarring wrists. I scream bloody murder as the pain sweeps through my body. I still don't care, even if I was crying and wincing. Pain was the only thing you could feel. It was the only thing I demand myself to feel.

I stop and look down at the now red water. I drop the blade into the tub and fall to my knees. I rinse my arms with the bloody water then get out and dry myself with a towel as I let the water drain.

I look at my cut up wrists and begin to cry again.

_Why did he do this to me?_

I can see the flashes in my head. The lit up oak tree in the back. Me laughing. My friends laughing. I raise the cup up to my lips and - No! I stop myself from thinking back to the awful night and decide to take a nap instead. It might do me some well.


End file.
